Masterclass: a session of tuition by an expert, esp a musician, for exceptional students, usually given in public or on television.
This year’s distinguished Menuhin Competition, (12 – 22 April) now in its 35th year (but held every two years), was founded by its iconic, eponymous violin virtuoso, Yehudi Menuhin, with the goal of nurturing promising young violinists.
Violinist Maxim Vengerov has certainly continued that tradition over three inspiring master classes in Geneva, the host venue for the 2018 competition.
Diana Adamyan from Armenia was the overall winner of the senior category. The 2018 prize winners. Her performance of the Bruch violin concerto was so nuanced, sublime and effused with emotion that it’s hard to get your head round the fact that she is only eighteen years old! A star in the making.
Anyhow, back to the tuition. A Menuhin Competition masterclass is a valuable opportunity for a young musician to learn from one of the most revered living violinists in the world. And if you want to do something you’ve never done before, it makes sense to be guided by someone who has already done it, and even better if they’ve excelled at it.
Maxim Vengerov duly stepped up to the teacher’s plate and knocked it out of the park.
I attended a masterclass he gave in the Sheldonian Theatre in Oxford a few years ago, recorded for posterity in my first blog!
These 2018 recorded masterclass sessions are manna from heaven for music students and violin lovers. Maestro Vengerov gives priceless advice to participants to help them develop their technical, artistic and performance skills.
As well as being a world renowned violin virtuoso and conductor, Maxim Vengerov is currently the Ambassador and visiting Professor of the Menuhin Music Academy in Switzerland (IMMA) and as of September 2016, the Polonsky Visiting Professor of Violin at the Royal College of Music in London.
Maxim Vengerov is not only an outstanding performer, but also a natural and gifted teacher. His love of the instrument, the music and his students is like a rich, warm sonata that envelops you in a hermetic bubble of energetic nurturing, lighthearted humour and scholarly encouragement.
Is it obvious I worship him?!
These recent masterclass videos are entertaining and inspiring for music lovers and non musicians alike, because they instill an appreciation of the talent, work and dedication that goes into perfecting just one piece; highlighting the depth of knowledge and mastery required to truly convey a composer’s mind through the sound of his notes, to draw the listener in.
It takes a virtuoso to express advanced technique infused with emotion and not get lost in either. It’s called interpretation and it’s a fine line to walk.
What I love is that Maxim immediately knows where the improvement points are, and uses a range of methods to help the students expand their abilities. He is assertive and appreciative in equal measure, a winning combination. I love how he invigorates and encourages them without being overpowering or striking fear into their hearts, and motivates without crushing their confidence.
Vengerov shows the pupils where they can improve, be it in phrasing, the intricacies of bowing, depending on the type of colour and sound required, their technique, voice and musicality, all demonstrated with such wisdom and wit.
He humbly shares his own experience of learning with the legendary cellist Mstislav Rostropovich and jokes about how hard it is to just play two notes evenly!
Even more funny, he quips about the quality of a student’s bow, casually telling the audience that he has multiple bows, and how he uses different ones for Mozart, Shostakovich and Brahms, adding as an afterthought, “It’s an expensive profession!” Then he winks, and clarifies further, “We are starting to work from the age of five.”
You can really hear what a difference his 1747 ‘Kreutzer’ Stradivarius violin paired with Jascha Heifetz’s bow makes.
I have included these wonderful masterclasses as a tribute to musical artistic endeavour!
Nineteen year old violinist I-hao Cheng from Taiwan works through the ‘Andante’ and ‘Allegro’ from Bach’s Solo Violin Sonata No. 2 in A minor, BWV 1003:
Eighteen year old violinist Zachary Brandon from the United States (with pianist Nicola Eimer) tackles Franz Waxman’s Carmen Fantasy:
OMG! Thirteen year old violinist Nurie Chung from South Korea (with pianist Nicola Eimer) plays Eugene Ysaye’s Caprice d’apres l’Etude en forme de Valse de Camille Saint-Saëns:
It’s also worth seeing the excellent masterclass observations and teachings from some of the other 2018 Menuhin Competition jury members.
Japanese violinist, conductor and jury member Joji Hattori works with seventeen year old violinist Julian Walder from Austria (with pianist Nicola Eimer) on Ravel’s Tzigane for Violin and Piano:
Arctic Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra Artistic Director and jury member Henning Kraggerud coaches sixteen year old violinist Elli Choi from the United States on Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 4 in D Major:
Judging and competition insights from the 2018 Menuhin Competition jury members:
I think the students themselves deserve a round of applause, it must be nerve-racking enough to be taught by a legend, let alone in front of an audience, and I applaud them for their dedication and ambition.
While I’m on the subject of masterclasses…
A violin masterclass happens to be the setting of the opening chapter of my fiction novel, The Virtuoso.
I am in the process of creating a new book cover with a new strapline. I think the current strapline: her life is her cadenza, (although it embodies the story) may be too narrow for non musical readers.
So far I am undecided between:
Performance is everything to a virtuoso. Could you give up the one thing you felt you were born to do?
Performance is everything to a virtuoso. Is redemption possible without the music?
Let me know what you think if you have read it, or have a constructive opinion. Feedback is always helpful when implementing changes. Thanks!
“My name is Jelly d’Arányi. I am the only woman who has ever had my name. I am the only woman who shall ever live my life. And live it I have, and I do, and I shall.” ~ Jessica Duchen, Ghost Variations
This bookis not a traditional ghost story replete with creepy sounds that go bump in the night; Ghost Variations is derived from an actual occult experience in 1933, during which an important message from a genius musical spirit ‘speaks’ at a private séance conducted with a Ouija board.
An original Ouija board
As I was researching the violin virtuoso Joseph Joachim, I came across Jessica Duchen’s fabulous novel, which is narrated predominantly from the point of view of the violinist Jelly d’Arányi, a siren Hungarian virtuoso, who as grand niece of Joseph Joachim, made a name for herself as a soloist based in London.
I was totally absorbed in the book from the outset. It is beautifully written, impeccably researched, as well as being musically and historically authentic. The colourful characters (both real and fictional), come off the pages in high definition life.
It’s hard enough to write fictional characters, but to base a work of fiction on mostly real people and events must be even more so…
I read Ghost Variations in a handful of sittings; it totally drew me in to the fictional tale of this real life violinist – slightly past her prime – living an extraordinary life in the Art Deco zeitgeist.
Based on her character in the novel I would love to have met Jelly d’Arányi. I feel Jessica captured her ‘essence’ perfectly: vivacious, glamorous, gracious, kind, musically brilliant but not a diva, vulnerable, courageous, and paradoxically both naïve and worldly.
She has known love, but is dedicated to her Bergonzi violin and her art: music.
The novel is set in the late thirties; Jelly is unmarried and approaching forty with arthritic joints that hamper her playing. She finds her own fame fading simultaneously with the rise of the young violin superstar, Yehudi Menuhin based in America.
Jelly lives with her sister Adila Fachiri, her lawyer husband Alex, daughter Adrienne and pet dog Caesar in Netherton Grove. Their home is affectionately dubbed Hurricane House, a warm and bohemian base for Jelly as she travels across the UK for her paid concerts as well as a series of cathedral charity concerts during the depression.
Portrait of Jelly d’Aranyi by Charles Geoffroy Dechaume
The story begins after a concert when Jelly, her secretary Anna and their hosts, play a glass game. Jelly, although skeptical, still takes part, but when the spirit of composer Robert Schumann mentions her sister, she gets cold feet and leaves the room. At first she cannot accept the spirit messages are real, and tries to put the episode out of her thoughts.
However, events conspire and in a glass game with her sister Adila (known for her psychic abilities), and their close family friend and spiritualist, the Swedish Ambassador, Baron Erik Palmstierna, the voice of Robert Schumann comes through to Jelly, telling her to find and play his forgotten violin concerto. Although still troubled, this time, Jelly cannot ignore it.
The paranormal nature of its emergence adds all the more mystery and conflict to the story, an imagining of what it must have been like for the talented Hungarian sisters in a time when psychic phenomena was frowned upon.
Jelly and Adila start to research the concerto, the last significant composition by Schumann before he descended into apparent madness, written for their revered great uncle Joachim. After Schumann’s death alone in the sanatorium, Brahms, Joachim and Clara decide not to publish the work, and it is placed in the Prussian State Library in Berlin by Joachim’s heirs, with the instruction that it not be performed for at least 100 years.
1850 photograph of Robert Schumann
When Jelly tells her musical companions about the circumstances preceding its rediscovery, she is met with mixed reactions. Donald Francis Tovey decides that the music itself is the most important thing, not its method of discovery, and helps her locate the score with the help of established German publishers Schott.
Baron Palmstierna visits the Prussian State Library expecting access to the suppressed manuscript, only to be told of its strict embargo, which Schumann’s last remaining daughter, the elderly Eugenie Schumann is adamant should remain unplayed…
Meanwhile Jelly is losing another love, Tom Spring-Rice to a fatal illness (after having lost Australian Olympic athlete, pianist and composer, Sep Kelly during the First World War). She is emotionally fragile, and comes to believe that by performing the world premiere of a long lost violin concerto she can also regain her dignity and rediscover herself.
However, in the wake of the baron’s visit to Berlin, knowledge of the concerto has come to the attention of the Nazi’s, who wish to use it for their own sickening nationalistic purposes, and the world premiere of the piece is awarded by Goebbels to a state sanctioned musician, Georg Kulenkampff, after it has been extensively edited by him, and also secretly by Paul Hindemith.
“Sleeping beauty had been awoken by the wrong prince. Could the spirits not see into the future? Could they not have known, when they chose to speak through the glass game, that the first person on whose ear the concerto would fall might be Adolf Hitler?” ~ Jessica Duchen, Ghost Variations
There is a brilliant and chilling scene towards the end of the novel in which the Strecker brothers, Ludwig and Willy and their colleague Ulli Schultheiss from Schott meet with Goebbels and members of the Reich regarding its publication and performances.
They know that their competitor Breitkopf & Härtel are also angling for first publication of the concerto, and so propose that Yehudi Menuhin also play it in America. Ulli puts his neck on the line to push for Jelly d’Arányi’s moral right to play the London premiere, being the grand niece of its dedicatee.
Being the vile Nazi pig he is, Goebbels is unhappy with his suggestion and threatens Ulli with his demise; but he ultimately agrees, as the music will by then be in the public domain.
Other scenes that reduced me to jelly (if you excuse the pronunciation and pun), is when she receives a visit from Moshe Menuhin, Yehudi’s formidable father. He brusquely asks her to give up the London premiere so Yehudi can be the first to play the concerto in London instead. Jelly refuses.
“Would you save a beloved friend’s life only to see him taken prisoner? I know Yehudi will play it well, but that concerto is not home again until it is here with me.” ~ Jessica Duchen, Ghost Variations
After the publication of Horizons of Immortality by Erik Palmstierna in conjunction with Adila Fachiri in 1937, in which a whole chapter is devoted to the story behind Jelly finding the ‘lost’ Schumann concerto, there is a media frenzy and backlash against her, and Jelly’s nerves are shredded even before she is due to perform the London premiere with Sir Adrian Boult and the BBC Symphony Orchestra.
As Hitler ramps up his anti-Jewish activities and propaganda, Jelly is subject to increasing racial animosity in London as her foreign accent is being noticed and commented on more frequently. The pre-war situation becomes more tense, but it is nothing compared to the vitriolic reaction to her revelation of ‘voices from the other side’.
The man she loves is trapped in Germany, sitting in the Charlottenburg Opera House, dreading Kulenkampff’s world premiere on 26th November 1937, at which Goebbels and the Führer are also present; knowing deep down he must somehow escape the abhorrent pall of Nazi Germany.
Opernhaus, Berlin c. 1912
Ulli’s despair is poignant, when in London he had promised Jelly that she would be the first to play the concerto, but power and politics have deemed otherwise:
“If Kulenkampff and Böhm, those most rational musicians could not make sense of the concerto, how could anybody?
And yet… within this musical jungle lay a naked beauty so exposed that it seemed almost indecent. Schumann’s soul might be damaged and suffering, but he still gave its entirety. Could it ever have been right to leave this music unheard?
And yet, and yet… there was madness here, a precipice lying ahead in the fog and snow; a spirit filled with love, but lost, unable to master itself. For the first time Ulli began to wonder what happens when insanity is unleashed through art into the soul of others. What exactly did Joachim and Clara know about this piece that made them put it to sleep?”
The transition sounded and the Polonaise emerged into the daylight. The Führer was smiling.
Ulli forced himself to listen to the detail. Kulenkampff’s version was considerably altered, wheras Yehudi had eagerly declared that he wanted to play every note exactly as Schumann had written it, without even the hushed-up Hindemith adaptations. Kulenkampff, ignoring Schumann’s funereal metronome mark, played it as a true Polonaise; yet though his delivery was graceful and elegant, its triumph felt empty. Everything would be alright, it seemed to say, when Ulli knew full well that it would not: only a few months after creating the blazing conclusion, Schumann threw himself off the Dusselforf bridge into the black Rhine.
Final chord. Kulenkampff, domed forehead shining with sweat, his bow aloft, gaze locked for an instant with Böhm’s. The orchestra standing, tired, inscrutable. The Führer, on his feet. The whole audience rising to ape him. And applause. And… Ulli sensed sensed their puzzlement. This was no triumph. That slow movement, exquisite, yet out of kilter; was this concerto after all an insane work for an insane land? What had they done, letting it out?” ~ Jessica Duchen, Ghost Variations
The Kulenkampff recording:
Sadly there was no recording of Jelly’s London performance. Menuhin’s American recording from 1938:
It is 16th February 1938, the date of Jelly’s London premiere of the concerto, described in a crescendo of emotion which has been building throughout the book; fascinating for musicians and non-musicians alike.
Ghost Variations has a strong literary and musical theme, but it is written like a psychological thriller. This is something I also tried to achieve with my novel, The Virtuoso.
I’m in awe at Jessica Duchen’s deft vocabulary and skill in layering in her protagonist’s emotional and musical challenges against the backdrop of a violent time in history: the two are clearly inseparable for Jelly. The novel leaves you rooting for victory and redemption for our gutsy heroine.
We meet Jelly’s real cohorts in music, the larger than life pianist Dame Myra Hess and the indefatigable pianist and music professor, Sir Donald Francis Tovey.
Jelly and Myra in a BBC studio on World Violin Day in 1928
There are so many wonderful touches in the story, from how the sisters talk to each other in their everyday dialogue, the affectionate terms such as ‘Sai’ and ‘Onkel Jo’, to learning about how Bartók had written his violin sonatas for the sisters, and how Jelly had been muse to French composer, Maurice Ravel, who composed Tzigane, his gypsy themed, Czardas type melodies in his virtuosic showpiecefor her. Jelly was also a muse to Elgar and Holst.
Ulli’s greetings to the bust of Wagner at Schott’s headquarters in Mainz are entirely plausible, since the Strecker brothers’ father had actually been a close personal friend of the composer.
Jessica explains more about the title of the novel:
Also in 1939, another previously unknown work by Robert Schumann was finally released to the public. It was a set of solo piano variations on the theme that Brahms had adopted from his own Opus 23 Variations (as played to Jelly by Myra in chapter 5). It became known as Geistervariationen – Ghost Variations – because Schumann believed the melody had been dictated to him in his sleep by spirits. What Schumann, in his disturbed state of mind, seemed to have forgotten is that he had already written the germ of this melody himself, in the slow movement of his violin concerto. He was writing the variations when he made his suicide attempt in February 1854. The day after his rescue from the Rhine, he gave the manuscript to Clara. She preferred to leave it unpublished.
Score of Geistervariationen.
Geistervariationen (Ghost Variations), or Theme and Variations in E-flat major for piano, WoO 24:
The suppression of the concerto after Schumann’s death was probably on balance a good thing, after all it led to a grand unveiling of a piece that may have been more maligned in the direct aftermath of Schumann’s illness, not to mention making a wonderful premise for a modern work of fiction!
It’s as though Schumann’s spirit had re-emerged triumphant after eighty years to right the musical injustice of his unheard violin concerto in D minor.
To put it using Sir Donald Francis Tovey’s vernacular from the novel: there’s no nuff and stonsense in this musical, literary gem!
“She had to be no more tonight than the active component of her violin. No extraneous emotion – and no rustling dress – must upset the flow from Schumann’s mind to the audience’s. A musician is the truest medium there is. She, her technique and the Bergonzi were his channel now from world to world.
She let her sister massage her hands, one at a time. In the hall the orchestra was warming up; some overture was opening the programme, she couldn’t remember which. She tried to blot out all that was extraneous, all that was physical. The concerto existed in sound alone, nothing that could be seen, claimed and owned. Everyone wanted to pierce it with a pin and fix it to a velvet board, but it belonged to everybody and nobody. It was the sum total of all that had passed: imagined by Schumann, nurtured by Clara, fired up by Brahms, twisted by Onkel Jo, guarded by all those gatekeepers, meddled with by Goebbels and Hindemith and even perhaps Ulli. Yehudi, she knew would play it perfectly – so perhaps she and he were allies after all, desiring the best for the work – and whenever it was played, it would be born anew.”
Jessica very helpfully elucidates on which characters are real and which are fictional, as well as factual information about Jelly’s life and the fate of her family, friends and colleagues, at the end of the book, plus her extensive bibliography.
It’s well worth reading, and was listed as John Suchet’s favourite read of 2016. Ghost Variations on Unbound.
“The true mission of the violin is to imitate the accents of the human voice, a noble mission that has earned for the violin the glory of being called the king of instruments.” ~ Charles-Auguste de Bériot
I thought it was time to share some lesser known, but brilliant violin works from the nineteenth century. It’s been a little while since my last ‘musical’ post and I’m getting withdrawal symptoms. Plus, I’ve been having technical problems, my old PC has gone to the scrap heap in the sky. The inevitable data retrieval is proving arduous, so in the spirit of a true musician, I’m having to improvise!
The Rehearsal by Edgar Degas
Romantic violin pieces flourished in the nineteenth century, the heyday of romanticism. I’ll present these three violin aces and their music in the order of their birth.
Charles-Auguste de Bériot(20 February 1802 – 8 April 1870)
Although he was born in Leuven, Belgium, de Bériot spent the majority of his musical career in Paris. At the Conservatoire de Bériot was tutored by Jean-François Tiby, an acolyte of Viotti. He was also influenced by Baillot and Viotti directly, as well as Paganini (elements of the latter can be heard in the style and virtuosity of his music).
Charles-Auguste_de_Bériot_byCharles Baugniet circa 1838.
He played for royalty in France and the Netherlands as well as touring London and Europe. De Bériot was also proficient on the piano and toured much of China against the emperor’s wishes.
His first wife was the celebrated mezzo soprano opera singer, Maria Malibran, who bore him a son in 1833. Charles-Wilfrid de Bériot became a piano professor who counted Maurice Ravel, Ricardo Vines and Enrique Granados among his pupils. Sadly, Maria died at the tender age of 28 (after a riding accident), and de Bériot moved back to Brussels.
In Leuven he met Marie Huber in a cafe of all places. She was an orphan but had been adopted by by Prince von Dietrichstein, making her step sister to his piano legend son, Sigismund Thalberg. It seems to have been a small world in the musical circles of Europe…
Portrait of Charles-Auguste de Beriot by Emile Jean-Horace Vernet.
De Bériot later became the chief violin instructor at the Brussels Conservatory where he established the Belgian-Franco School.
Among his followers were the virtuoso violinists Hubert Leonard, Henri Vieuxtemps and Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst.
He was forced to retire from teaching and performing in 1852 due to failing eyesight and became completely blind by 1858. Unfortunately his ill health continued and he had to have his left arm amputated in 1866.
Compositions
De Bériot wrote pedagogical studies for students, such as the Violin Method Opus 102 and His First 30 Concert Studies Opus 123 for soloists wanting to perfect their technique and skills prior to performing major violin concertos. His output includes various romantic violin pieces that were sometimes used for encore performances in addition to ten violin concertos. His music has fallen into relative obscurity, so I think it’s time to dust it off and give it an outing!
The fabulous Scene de Ballet, Op. 100 with Itzhak Perlman and the Juillard Orchestra conducted by Lawrence Foster:
Violin Concerto No. 9, Op. 104 with Takako Nishizawi:
Third movement of Violin Concerto No. 9, Op. 104 (performer unknown):
Duo Concertante No. 1, Op. 57 for two violins with Maxine Kwok-Adams and Philip Nolte of the LSO:
A soulful interpretation of Violin Concerto No. 7 in G Major, Op. 76 with Laurent Albrecht :
“If Ole Bull had been born without arms, what a rank he would have taken among the poets – because it is in him, and if he couldn’t violin it out, he would talk it out, since of course it would have to come out.” ~ Mark Twain in a letter to William D. Howells, April 19, 1880
Ole Bornemann Bull (5 February 1810 – 17 August 1880)
This energetic and eccentric Norwegian prodigy didn’t follow the usual path to virtuosity, due to his extremely creative bent and a desire to do things his own way.
Ole Bull playing his Gasparo da Salo violin
Norwegian violinist Ole Bull has received less attention than the other composer/virtuosi of the nineteenth century. Perhaps because a good portion of his performance activity took place in the United States, where less of a historical perspective on 19th century music-making has developed among performers. Bull was Norway’s first real celebrity, and as a virtuoso he was something of a rock star, playing on the emotions of audiences in a way Sarasate, for example, did not.
How many other violin virtuosi have played at the top of a pyramid in Egypt? Probably none! Bull certainly led an interesting life…
From the Violin-man.com:
During the season 1836—37 he played 274 concerts in England and Ireland; in 1839 he visited the great German violinist and composer Spohr in Kassel, in the hope of receiving useful advice from him. In 1840 he played Beethoven’s Krentzer Sonata in London, with Liszt at the piano. On July 23, 1849, he announced the formation of a Norwegian Theater in Bergen, which was opened on Jan. 2,1850. While he failed to impress serious musicians and critics in Europe, he achieved his dream of artistic success in America; he made 5 concert tours across the U.S., playing popular selections and his own compositions on American themes with such fetching titles as Niagara, Solitude of the Prairies, and To the Memory of Washington, interspersing them with his arrangements of Norwegian folk songs.
I found this short documentary about the man, his music and his idiosyncrasies (such as shaving off the top of the bridge to enable him to play chords on all four strings simultaneously) quite informative:
Luthier Gasparo da Salò
In 1842 Ole Bull bought a very richly decorated da Salò violin, originally made in 1570 for the treasure chamber of Archduke Ferdinand I of Tyrol. He used it on tour along with a magnificent Guarneri del Gesu and a large Nicolo Amati model, for nearly forty years of frenzied, fiery improvisation and recital.
Ole Bull’s Gasparo da Salo violin.
I adore the deeper, darker, unique sound of Ole Bull’s Violin, made by Jean-Baptiste Villaume:
Compositions
It’s thought Ole Bull wrote as many as seventy pieces in his lifetime, but only around ten of those endured and continue to be performed in modern repertoire.
This is totally seductive and beguiling! ‘Cantabile doloros e Rondo giocoso’ with Charlie Siem and the London Symphony Orchestra at Abbey Road Studios:
Violin Concerto in A major, “Grand Concerto’, Op. 4 (1834; revised 1864) with Annar Follesø with the Norwegian Radio Orchestra, conducted by Ole Kristian Ruud:
This sweet tune is an example of his love for Norwegian folk songs, arranged for violin and orchestra by Johann Svendsen – Sæterjentens Søndag (The Herd-Girls’ Sunday):
Polacca Guerriera played with virtuosic flair by Marek Pavelec:
La Verbena de San Juan: Spanish Fantasy for Violin and Orchestra with Annar Follesø:
Fantasy And Variations On A Theme By Bellini and other gems by Arve Tellefsen:
It seems that he was friends with Pianist and composer Franz Liszt, and Robert Schumann wrote that Bull was among “the greatest of all,” extolling that he was on par with Niccolò Paganini for the speed and clarity of his playing.
“His violin, which transforms all your soul, combines enthusiasm with perfect intonation … his mastery of the bow … produces a song that resembles the human voice, and he has the technique for the most difficult whims found in Paganini, executed without hampering true expression.” ~ Review by a Milanese Critic after hearing Bazzini perform on the violin in 1839
Antonio Bazzini (11 March 1818 – 10 February 1897)
Bazzini was born in Brescia, Italy into a long established Brescian family dating back as far as the 1400s.
His early introduction to literature, culture and music was provided by his grandfather, Antonio Buccelleni, who had written poems, sonnets and odes, some of which formed the basis of Bazzini’s early compositions.
His first violin instruction was under Kapellmeister Faustino Camisiani, and by the time of his death in 1830 young Antonio was a competent eleven year old violinist.
Bazzini’s fame as a violin virtuoso overshadowed his composing and teaching, he was regarded as one of the finest concert violinists of the 19th century.
From Naxos:
At seventeen Bazzini was himself a maestro di cappella for the church of San Filippo in Brescia. His early works were often religious in nature, and while at San Filippo he wrote Masses, Vespers, and six oratorios. His life materially changed on 20 March 1836, when he played first violin in a quintet by Luigi Savi. The work was dedicated to Paganini and the dedicatee was in the audience. Paganini advised the young man to tour as a virtuoso, and Bazzini took this advice to heart. Beginning in 1837 he toured Milan, Venice, Trieste, Vienna, and Budapest; from 1841–1845 he toured Germany, Denmark, and Poland.
For several years he lived in Leipzig, where he studied the German masters. While in Germany, Bazzini performed with Mendelssohn’s Gewandhaus Orchestra, reputedly giving one of the first private performances of Mendelssohn’s E minor Violin Concerto. In 1848 he undertook a tour of Spain and in 1852 he settled in Paris. In 1864, after a final concert tour in the Netherlands, he returned to Brescia and concentrated on composition; he also championed instrumental music in Italy through string quartet performances at the home of Gaetano Franchi and the creation of the Società dei Concerti. Among the soloists Bazzini brought to Italy were Hans von Bülow and Anton Rubinstein, in 1870 and 1874 respectively.
Along with Verdi, Bazzini had an important rôle in establishing standard concert pitch (440 Hz), which was first recognised in Italy by the Congresso dei Musicisti Italiani in 1881. In 1873 he was appointed professor of musical theory and composition at the Milan Conservatory and became director of the same institution in 1882. Among his pupils at the Milan Conservatory were Mascagni and Puccini.
Compositions
He returned to Brescia after touring, where he focused on composing. During this time he wrote an opera, Turanda, cantatas, sacred works, concert overtures and symphonic poems (Francesca da Rimini). His chamber music proved to be his most successful pieces as far as composing was concerned.
The insanely virtuosic show piece, Scherzo Fantastique, Op. 25 La ronde des Lutins performed superbly by Maxim Vengerov and Ingo Dannhorn:
James Ehnes is cool, calm and collected, yet manages to set his 1715 ‘Marsick’ Stradivarius on fire…
As popular show pieces tend to be arranged for other instruments, I thought I’d treat you to one for the cello and piano by Duo Toivio; cellist Seeli Toivio and pianist Kalle Toivio :
An incredible transcription for classical guitar of ‘La Ronde des Lutins’ by. Alexey Zimakov:
Violin Concerto No. 4 in A minor, Op. 38 with Aldo Ferraresi, Orchestra ‘A. Scarlatti’ di Napoli della Rai conducted by Franco Gallini:
‘Calabrese’, Waltz in E minor, Op. 34, a splendid vintage recording withYehudi Menuhin and Adolph Baller:
Fantasia on themes from Verdi’s ‘La Traviata’ Op. 50 with Claudio Voghera and Francesco Manara:
I’ll bid you farewell now, (the hungry hordes are waiting for their tea), echoing Shakespeare’s immortal verse: If music be the food of love…play on!
When asked to name a famous violinist, the first person on most people’s lips is Niccolò Paganini. To this day, he is probably regarded as the greatest violinist of all time.
His legendary status, through both performance and composition, has continued to influence composers and violinists 175 years after his death, making him the foremost innovator of technique in violin repertoire.
This will be the first in a series of posts over the next few months, spanning the 18th and 19th centuries, featuring the great violin virtuosi of the classical and romantic eras in music.
Niccolò Paganini (27 October 1782 – 27 May 1840):
Anecdotally, it was the mandolin that little Niccolò learnt first, moving on to the violin when he was aged seven. He was also proficient on the viola and guitar. Born the third of six children in Genoa, he had a rare congenital disorder that meant he had freakishly flexible fingers.
He was so incredibly talented that many thought he had sold his soul to Satan. When you are able to compose and play music that is so fiendishly difficult it’s no wonder his superstitious audiences came to that conclusion! Cue the trailer for the recent film starring German violinist, David Garrett as “The Devil’s Violinist”:
In fact, Paganini was literally ‘born’ to play the violin, as his genetic makeup meant he had long fingers and could stretch his hands abnormally wide, a definite boon for a concert violinist. Because of his rubbery connective tissues he could apparently move his little finger (fourth finger on the violin), out sideways at right angles to the rest of his hand. However, this rather unfair advantage to his musicianship would come at a price, plaguing him with a plethora of other ailments.
It is now thought that Paganini’s genetic condition was Marfan Syndrome, which would explain his bouts of ill health, especially in his later life. Paganini suffered with joint pain, poor vision, breathlessness, chest pains and fatigue. These less desirable symptoms meant that he frequently had to cancel public performances and he died at the relatively young age of 58.
In addition to his congenital health problems Paganini contracted Syphilis in 1822 and took Mercury and Opium as a remedy, albeit one with serious side-effects.
Despite his physical challenges Paganini liked the high life, with a taste for gambling and womanising. He had a son (Achilles), with singer Antonia Bianchi, but they were never married. After his death, the Catholic Church in his hometown refused to bury him for decades (such was his reputation).
His first concerts were held mainly in Italy, but as his fame spread he travelled across Europe; spellbinding audiences in Vienna, Germany, Poland, Paris, Bohemia and Britain. He was the complete package as violinist. He possessed passion, flexibility, dexterity, technique, flair, imagination and innovation. He was able to write music that specifically showcased his particular style and skills that would be unmatched by any other violinist in his lifetime.
Much of Paganini’s playing (and his violin composition) was influenced by two violinists, Pietro Locatelli (1693–1746) and August Duranowski (1770–1834). During Paganini’s study in Parma, he came across the 24 Caprices of Locatelli (entitled L’arte di nuova modulazione – Capricci enigmatici or The art of the new style – the enigmatic caprices). Published in the 1730s, they were shunned by the musical authorities for their technical innovations, and were forgotten by the musical community at large. Around the same time, Durand, a former student of Giovanni Battista Viotti (1755–1824), became a celebrated violinist. He was renowned for his use of harmonics and the left hand pizzicato in his performance. Paganini was impressed by Durand’s innovations and showmanship, which later also became the hallmarks of the young violin virtuoso. Paganini was instrumental in the revival and popularization of these violinistic techniques, which are now incorporated into regular compositions.
His celebrated Violin Caprice No. 24 in A minor has provided inspiration for transcriptions and variations and themes on other instruments such as the cello, piano, flute, oboe, trumpet, saxophone and guitar.
Some of my favourite Paganini performances:
Caprice No. 24 in a vintage, virtuosic recording by Jascha Heifetz:
‘La Campanella’ for Violin and Orchestra by Ivry Gitlis:
Sonata in E minor, Opus 36 for violin & guitar, performed by Ruggiero Ricci and pianist Louis Persinger:
The heavenly tones of Leonid Kogan – Sonatine for Violin & Guitar in A Major:
Whilst his Moto Perpetuo isn’t melodic, it’s quite a feat to play accurately, and even more so on the cello. Top marks to Miklós Perényi:
Duet for one violin, performed by both Salvatore Accardo and, yes, you guessed it, Senor Accardo!
I Palpiti beautifully executed by Maxim Vengerov:
And finally…Yehudi Menhuin is wonderful in this vintage performance of the Violin Concerto No. 1 2nd & 3rd movements:
Paganini works that inspired other composers:
Paganini’s virtuosity and music was much admired by the likes of Franz Liszt, Frédéric Chopin, Sergei Rachmaninoff, Robert Schumann, Johannes Brahms, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Johann Sedlatzek and Eugène Ysaÿe to name but a few.
Here is a small selection of classical pieces written in homage to Paganini.
Recollections of Paganini, a Fantasia for the pianoforte, by Hummel performed by Marco Pasini:
Liszt’s inimitable Paganini Etude No. 6 played with passion by Marc-Andre Hamelin:
I adore Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, played to perfection by Arthur Rubinstein:
Tárrega’s Variations ‘Carnaval de Venecia de Paganini’ sound wonderful on the classical guitar with David Russell at the helm:
I’d like to finish my finale with this quote from violinist.com:
“When it comes to violinists, virtuosity is not entirely the result of mechanical finger velocity and sheer technique, as it is with pianists. The violin is an instrument which has almost human whims—it is attuned to the mood of the player in a sympathetic rapport: a minute discomfort, the tiniest inner imbalance, a whiff of sentiment elicits an immediate resonance . . . probably because the violin, pressed against the chest, can perceive our heart’s beat. But this happens only with artists who truly have a heart that beats, who have a soul. The more sober, the more heartless a violinist is, the more uniform will be his performance, and he can count on the obedience of his fiddle, any time, any place. But this much-vaunted assurance is only the result of a spiritual limitation, and some of the greatest masters were often dependent on influences from within and without. I have never heard anyone play better—or, for that matter, play worse than Paganini . . .”
~ Heinrich Heine (1843) Thoughts on the Violin and on Violinists
Johann Sebastian Bach was one of the most dedicated, gifted and prolific composers that ever lived. Born in Thuringia in 1685, just a few days after fellow composer Handel; he was an accomplished organist, and his faith in the divine inspired him to write a substantial oeuvre of immortal music.
“Bach” is the German word for “brook”, hence Beethoven’s famous quote, ‘Not Brook but Ocean should be his name.’ Beethoven also referred to him as, ‘the immortal God of harmony.’
He wasn’t universally recognised as a great composer until the beginning of the 19th Century when Felix Mendelssohn championed his works, and later, by Pablo Casals, who was the first cellist to record his cello suites. What great artist is truly appreciated during their lifetime?
He hailed from a musical family, and is the patriarch of Europe’s largest musical dynasty. He fathered twenty children, seven with first wife and second cousin, Maria Barbara Bach, (only four survived into adulthood) and a further thirteen with his second wife, Anna Magdalena Wilcke, of which six made it past infancy and childhood.
All of his offspring were musicians, and two of his sons became notable composers in their own right: Carl Philipp Emanuel and Johann Christian Bach. J.S. Bach left the world an artistically and spiritually enriched place. No ordinary life…
His music spans time and space; three of his compositions were on NASA’s Voyager record, Music From Earth. Bach’s devotion to God shines through in his music, which speak to the soul on a primal level, regardless of one’s religious orientation. He was a rare genius indeed.
“I think that if I were required to spend the rest of my life on a desert island, and to listen to or play the music of any one composer during all that time, that composer would almost certainly be Bach. I really can’t think of any other music which is so all-encompassing, which moves me so deeply and so consistently, and which, to use a rather imprecise word, is valuable beyond all of its skill and brilliance for something more meaningful than that — its humanity.” ~ Glenn Gould
As a violinist, (other than Beethoven), he is my favourite composer to play and listen to, and I always play Bach at every practice session. He gives me a workout for my spirit, as well as my fingers and my brain. His sonatas and partitas for solo violin are essential repertoire for any violinist, not to mention his violin concertos.
But the ‘Chaconne’ in particular, (along with the adagio of the double violin concerto) touches me very deeply. It is a dance, and the minor key gives it a slightly melancholy feel; which is understandable, as it was written after his wife had died. If you are not already familiar with the work you are in for a treat. Immerse yourself in the music…
From Wikipedia:
The ciaccona (commonly called by the French form of the word, chaconne), the concluding movement of Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004, surpasses the duration of the previous four movements combined. Along with its disproportional relationship to the rest of the suite, it merits the emphasis given it by musicians and composers alike. The theme, presented in the first four measures in typical chaconne rhythm with a chord progression based on the repeated bass note pattern D D C♯ D B♭ G A D, begets the rest of the movement in a series of variations. The overall form is tripartite, the middle section of which is in major mode. It represents the pinnacle of the solo violin repertoire in that it covers every aspect of violin playing known during Bach’s time. It is still one of the most technically and musically demanding pieces for the instrument.
Yehudi Menuhin called the Chaconne “the greatest structure for solo violin that exists”.
Violinist Joshua Bell has said the Chaconne is “not just one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, but one of the greatest achievements of any man in history. It’s a spiritually powerful piece, emotionally powerful, structurally perfect.” He played the piece busking in L’Enfant Plaza for the Washington Post.
Piano transcriptions:
Since Bach’s time, several different transcriptions of the piece have been made for other instruments, particularly for the piano (by Ferruccio Busoni and Joachim Raff), and for the piano left-hand (by Brahms).
Johannes Brahms, in a letter to Clara Schumann, said about the Ciaccona:
On one stave, for a small instrument, the man writes a whole world of the deepest thoughts and most powerful feelings. If I imagined that I could have created, even conceived the piece, I am quite certain that the excess of excitement and earth-shattering experience would have driven me out of my mind.
Felix Mendelssohn and Robert Schumann each wrote piano accompaniments for the work.
I hope one day to be able to fully play the Chaconne. Maybe there is a teacher out there who can help me! The multi-stopping and chords are challenging to say the least. I must study Heifetz’s masterclass, but even that goes right over my head.
Reinvention:
His works lend themselves to transcriptions for other instruments more than any other composer I can think of. The composer and conductor Leopold Stokowski did many orchestral transcriptions of Bach’s works, as did Franz Liszt for the piano.
For me, there are three definitive solo violin recordings, (the original form of composition), which are by Menuhin, Stern and Heifetz. These clips perfectly illustrate the impact that personal interpretation and tempo have on the music:
I have listed below ten varied transcriptions I have enjoyed of this fabulous piece. Each conjures up a different mood. I’ll let the musicians do the talking…
Transcription for violin and piano by Schumann:
Piano version by Brahms for the left hand:
The Busoni piano transcription in a live performance by Marc-André Hamelin:
It has to be John Williams on the classical guitar:
Orchestrated version by Leopold Stokowski:
Nicanor Zabaleta on the Harp:
Marimba:
ESP Saxophone group:
Viola:
This heartfelt Cello performance by Rustam Komachkov has oodles of rich, warm colours and soul:
Jean Rondeau on the Harpsichord:
“Bach is the supreme genius of music… This man, who knows everything and feels everything, cannot write one note, however unimportant it may appear, which is anything but transcendent. He has reached the heart of every noble thought, and has done it in the most perfect way.” ~ Pablo Casals
Which one is your favourite?
That’s it from me; I must get Bach to doing some more practice!
rhap.so.dy in words 